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‘So you just lied to me?’
Sam could feel her cheeks burning now, with shame. ‘I thought it was a miscarriage, as did you. But at the clinic, after the doctor had done his examination, he told me that I wasn’t miscarrying.’
Rafaele crossed his arms and she could see his hands clenched to fists. She shivered at the threat of violence even though she knew he would never hit her. But she sensed he wanted to hit something.
‘You knew then and yet you barefaced lied to me and let me walk away.’
Clutching at the smallest of straws, Sam said shakily, ‘I didn’t lie...you assumed...I just didn’t tell you.’
‘And the reason you didn’t inform me was because...?’
‘You didn’t...didn’t want to know.’ The words felt flimsy and ineffectual now. Petty.
‘Based on...?’
It was as if he couldn’t quite get out full sentences, Sam felt his rage strangling his words.
Her brain felt heavy. ‘Because of how you reacted when I told you in the first place...’
Sam recalled the indescribable pain of realising that Rafaele had been about to break it off with her. His abject shock at the prospect of her pregnancy. It gave her some much needed strength. ‘And because of what you said afterwards...at the clinic. I heard you on the phone.’
Rafaele frowned and it was a glower. ‘What did I say?’
Sam’s sliver of strength started to drain away again like a traitor. ‘You were talking to someone. You said you were caught up in something unimportant.’ Even now those words scored at Sam’s insides like a knife.
Rafaele’s expression turned nuclear. His arms dropped, his hands were fists. ‘Dio, Samantha. I can’t even recall that conversation. No doubt I just said something—anything—to placate one of my assistants. I thought you’d just miscarried. Do you really think I was about to announce that in an innocuous phone call?’
Sam gulped and had to admit reluctantly, ‘Maybe...maybe not. But how did I know that? All I could hear was your relief that you didn’t have to worry about a baby holding your life up and your eagerness to leave.’
He all but exploded. ‘Need I remind you that I was also in shock, and at that point I thought there was no baby!’
Sam was breathing hard and Rafaele looked as if he was about to kick aside the kitchen table between them to come and throttle her.
Just then a small, unsure voice emerged from the doorway. ‘Mummy?’
Immediately Sam’s world refracted down to Milo, who stood in the doorway. He’d opened it unnoticed by them and was looking from one to the other, his lower lip quivering ominously at the explosive tension.
Sam flew over and picked him up and he clung to her. Her conscience struck her. He was always a little intimidated by men because he wasn’t around them much.
‘Why is the man still here?’ he asked now, slanting sidelong looks to Rafaele and curling into Sam’s body as much as he could.
Sam stroked his back reassuringly and tried to sound normal. ‘This is just an old friend of Mummy’s. He’s stopped by to say hello, that’s all. He’s leaving now.’
‘Okay,’ Milo replied, happier now. ‘Can we look at cars?’
Sam looked at him and forced a smile, ‘Just as soon as I say goodbye to Mr Falcone, okay?’
‘Okey-dokey.’ Milo used his new favourite phrase that he’d picked up in playschool, squirmed back out of Sam’s arms and ran out of the kitchen again.
Sam watched Rafaele struggle to take it all in. Myriad explosive emotions crossing his face.
‘You’ll have to go,’ she entreated. ‘It’ll only confuse and upset him if you stay.’
Rafaele closed the distance between them and Sam instinctively moved back, but the oven was behind her. Rafaele’s scent enveloped her, musky and male. Her heart pounded.
‘This is not over, Samantha. I’ll leave now, because I don’t want to upset the boy, but you’ll be hearing from me.’
After a long searing moment, during which she wasn’t sure how she didn’t combust from the anger being directed at her, Rafaele turned on his heel and left, stopping briefly at the sitting room door to look in at Milo again.
